


A Scream Unheard

by hamstercheese7



Category: One Piece
Genre: After Fleet Admiral fight, Angst, Borsalino POV, Complicated Relationships, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, OnePieceAdmiralsWeek2020, Polyamory, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamstercheese7/pseuds/hamstercheese7
Summary: Day 3: Conflict || Crime AUHe couldn’t smooth things over between Sakazuki and Kuzan, couldn’t be the mediator, the middle, the bridge. Not this time, not when they let it get this far.Borsalino's take on the fallout between Sakazuki and Kuzan after their fight on Punk Hazard.Written for One Piece Admirals Week 2020
Relationships: Akainu | Sakazuki/Aokiji | Kuzan, Akainu | Sakazuki/Aokiji | Kuzan/Kizaru | Borsalino, Akainu | Sakazuki/Kizaru | Borsalino, Aokiji | Kuzan/Smoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: One Piece Admirals Week 2020





	A Scream Unheard

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the prompt Conflict || Crime AU for One Piece Admirals Week 2020!

The ocean steamed and bubbled, but the air practically froze in his lungs. A really bewildering sensation. Borsalino eyed Punk Hazard from the deck of his warship, a hand rolled cigarette between his fingers, tobacco leaving a little residue on his skin. 

Day ten, and the two of them were still at it. Though, he blinked slowly, there were signs the battle was either reaching its peak, or reaching its end. He supposed that was why he’d been called out to the island, to do damage control if needed. Or maybe Sengoku-san thought he was being kind. He wasn’t. Borsalino breathed out a ring of smoke watching it float upward before dissipating in the wind. His men went about their work, the sound like scratchy ants in the background. 

Most people thought the calm before the storm was the worst part. That it was a relief once the shit finally hit the fan, but most people were stupid. The wait was fine, it was choosing how to react to the change once it came that was the worst part. 

He flicked the cigarette into the waves.

\---

The hospital hallway was quiet, for the first time in hours. It was late into the night, and the quiet was welcome. Borsalino took a breath and crossed his long legs, one over the other, leaning against the almost-cushioned back of the waiting room chair he’d nabbed earlier. He flipped through the newspaper, eyes flicking to different articles randomly. 

They’d probably announce that the new Fleet Admiral had been appointed in the next day or two. It depended on whether Sakazuki would be up for photos or not. He would say he was, but personally, Borsalino would rather he wait until the bandages could be removed from his face. They needed the Navy to look strong and all that. But Sakazuki didn’t think that way, not yet. He would though, in time.

Or this fight would have been for naught, and well...they couldn’t have that. A momentary clawing bubble of rage floated up within him and Borsalino considered tearing the newspaper into shreds. But it was gone the next instant, after all, what would be the point? 

Booted footsteps at a steady march made him look up towards the doors at the end of the hallway. The doors shoved open, none too gently, but not with a crash. That was good, they didn’t need a repeat of Garp earlier; the walls still had dents in them. 

A cloud of smoke preceded the visitor through the doors, followed by a shock of white hair. Borsalino gazed at him as he approached. He knew Smoker saw him, but it didn’t appear that he was going to stop. As the man reached the door to Kuzan’s hospital room, Borsalino turned slightly and stretched his leg out in front, blocking it. 

Smoker stopped and glared down at him. There was an exhausted pinched look between his eyes, his jaw clenched too tight. “Kuzan-kun asked me not to let anyone see him,” Borsalino drawled. Smoker’s hand twitched before he growled out, “You gonna stop me?”

Borsalino let out a low chuckle. Or maybe it was a dark chuckle (these days they all sounded the same to him) and he supposed, as his eyes flicked to Kuzan’s door, they probably would for a long time. “...He isn’t my superior, so…” Borsalino shrugged. Smoker’s hand clenched into a fist, and for a moment, he thought he would hit him. That would be interesting, give his own anger somewhere to go, though Kuzan wouldn’t like it.

The moment passed, and Smoker stepped through his leg as he opened the door and closed it behind him. Borsalino sighed. Kuzan had chosen different with that one, and it was going to bite him in the ass one day. The thing that Smoker didn’t understand was that Kuzan didn’t like people when he was in pain. He lashed out, or worse, he beat himself up. He never wanted others to see him like that, and right now...Borsalino sighed yet again as he heard the unmistakable sound of pained anger reverberate through the door. 

Smoker stormed out a few minutes later, a look of horror and anguish, anger and despair all rolled into one on his face. The door slammed behind him, the temperature dropping a few degrees. That was going to be a pain for the nurses. 

He watched the man try to get his emotions under control, shove them underneath an impassive mask, not dissimilar to the one Borsalino wore himself. But that wouldn’t fit Smoker, he didn’t have the years of practice that he had to let the things below the surface stay down until they drifted away. Borsalino chewed on his lip in the silence for a moment, flicking his eyes down at Smoker’s clenched fists, then up to his hunched shoulders before letting out another sigh. Smoker turned his gaze onto him, the fury lighting up in his eyes.

Better kill that before it escalated. He gazed back impassively into Smoker’s glaring amber orbs before saying softly, “Loving someone is messy, Smoker-san.” His eyes left the young man’s face for Kuzan’s hospital door before sliding back to him. They stared at each for a moment before Smoker took a breath and squared his shoulders, sliding back into his soldier ways, quietly leaving the way he’d come.

\---

Weak sunlight filtered in through the window of Kuzan’s room, but it was bright enough that the flowers in the vase sitting on the sill perked up. Borsalino eyed them with vague curiosity. White carnations for luck, a few pink for love and...his eyebrow rose. A single, purple hyacinth. Of course, Sakazuki could never say it, would never say it, not directly. 

For a man to whom everything was a nail, he was terrible at being direct with his feelings. Any other time, this would have amused Borsalino. But, he looked away and down at Kuzan’s sleeping face. He knew that when he saw them, he’d only get angrier. And Borsalino wasn’t about to try to smooth it over. Not this time. 

He blinked slowly from his chair next to Kuzan’s bedside as the man slowly came around. His face in sleep was almost peaceful, but now that he was waking up, Borsalino could see the pain tugging at the corners of his eyes. Kuzan was avoiding the pain medications as he always did. A stupid habit, but they all had their vices.

It took him a few moments before his dark eyes focused on Borsalino. “Why are you here?” he grumbled, his voice rough from sleep and discomfort. Borsalino gave him a small smile and placed the day’s newspaper onto him gently. He’d managed to convince Sakazuki to wait a full week before making the announcement. Kuzan reached and unfurled it with his good hand, letting out a hiss of pain from between his teeth as he slowly used his bad hand to hold it up in order to read.

The silence stretched in the room, Borsalino looking over at the flowers once more. After a few minutes, Kuzan dropped the paper back down, the pages slipping down his legs. Borsalino reached out and grabbed them, putting them back together and re-rolling it. “I don’t need your pity, Borsalino,” Kuzan said quietly. Borsalino gazed at him before reaching over and taking his hand.

\---

Borsalino eyed Sakazuki as the man settled behind his new desk, only a few personal items had yet to be unpacked, the rest had been done by attendants hours earlier. There was already paperwork in the inbox, though not much. He was still on light duty. It was cloudy outside, he noted idly as Sakazuki grabbed the first few papers out of his inbox.

“Sooo...Saka-san, what are you planning to do for your first task as Fleet Admiral, hmm?” he piped up, settling on the bench against the wall, crossing one leg over the other. He hoped he would be doing something about the damage to Marineford, the cracks in the walls and floor really didn’t scream “All Powerful Navy”. 

Sakazuki flicked his eyes over to him, going uncharacteristically still. Borsalino arched an eyebrow at him, tapping his fingers lightly on the back of the couch. “Going over transfers,” he muttered. He wouldn’t meet Borsalino’s eyes. Interesting. 

“Hmm, which ones?” he watched Sakazuki’s shoulders hunch, just the smallest bit. 

“There’s been a request for a new Commodore transfer to the G-5,” he was looking down at the form in front of him intently, but his pen had yet to move across the page. 

“A Commodore transfer? Isn’t that a bit below you now?” Borsalino leaned his head against the back of the couch. Dragging out the reasons behind Sakazuki’s actions was always such a slow, methodical dance. 

Sakazuki glanced at him furtively, “Not if he gets promoted in the process,” he grunted. Now, Borsalino turned his full attention onto him. 

“Who?” they were getting to the meat of it now, Borsalino could feel it. Decades of experience with Sakazuki telling him so. They locked gazes. 

“White Hunter Smoker,” Sakazuki said after a long, long minute. 

Ah. This was going to be messy, and in the past, he would have stepped in, tried to convince him that this wasn’t a good idea, tried to stop another argument from brewing. Be the voice of reason. But not this time. 

“I don’t recall him being in your jurisdiction, Sakazuki-san,” Borsalino stated, putting his hand into his pocket. 

“I’m Fleet Admiral, everyone is in my jurisdiction,” he snarled, but Borsalino was unfazed, only gazing at him. Waiting. “...With Kuzan out of commission for now, I took over his duties,” Sakazuki growled after another long moment. 

Borsalino turned his gaze to the window, the clouds sitting low. He hadn’t missed the “for now”, though it appeared Sakazuki was only seeing what he wanted to see. A fog layer was blowing in outside, obscuring the cracks and collapsed buildings. He wished it was blowing out.

“...He had already requested the transfer, and he IS a good soldier,” Sakazuki added as an afterthought, a justification. Kuzan wasn’t going to like this. He would see it as pity, or worse, a bribe, and not at all as Sakazuki intended it. Making amends, of all things, really was out of Sakazuki’s wheelhouse. All that power, and yet, he could never ever just apologize. It was almost laughable how the three of them had lasted this long.

Borsalino pulled the cigarette from his pocket, flicked the lighter, and took a long drag. The silence stretched in the room. “Thought you quit,” Sakazuki muttered, his eyes narrowing. Borsalino just looked at him, letting the smoke from his cigarette drift towards the ceiling.

\---

The garden was beautiful, by some miracle it was nearly untouched by the violence of the Paramount War. Though, he eyed the bags of soil in the corner, the shovel fallen in the dirt, maybe it had been. Sakazuki had been busy in his spare time. Trying to recenter himself, the garden always his space for reflection. Borsalino looked up as the thin doors across from him slid open, the long legged gait of Kuzan coming through. The half light of the moon glinted off the glimmering ice of where his leg used to be. He wasn’t in uniform, but in a simple pair of shorts, and a v-neck tank. His scars on full display.

Borsalino clenched his jaw. That wasn’t a good sign. That was designed to cause pain. If he stopped Kuzan now, he could prevent the final collapse. He could stop this, or at least put it off for a little longer. But not this time.

They looked at each other for a moment before Kuzan continued past him, heading farther into the house. Towards Sakazuki. He really didn’t care for the look in Kuzan’s eyes. 

He stared at the pond, the stars and moon reflecting off the surface balefully, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out another of his rolled cigarettes. His fingers were beginning to stain from tobacco. He lit it and slowly turned his gaze towards the direction Kuzan had gone. It was quiet. Far too quiet, and for a moment, he wondered if Sengoku had chosen him instead, if this was where they would be. Would Sakazuki have looked like such an appealing counter option if he had been Sengoku’s preferred pick? ...Things would have been different, but whether for good or bad, it didn’t matter now.

Sound returned, the quick pace of footsteps, followed closely by a second heavier set of steps. Out of the darkness came Kuzan, his face unreadable but his steps never faltering. Their eyes locked as Borsalino watched him pass, watched him pull open the doors and step through them, not bothering to close them behind. 

Sakazuki then appeared out of the darkness, his face hard, but there was shock in his dark eyes, incredulity, disbelief. He knew it would soon be replaced by anger to cover up the devastation he would only then, truly feel. He came to a stop next to Borsalino, a slip of paper clenched in his hand. Borsalino didn’t need to read it to know what it was. 

He flicked his cigarette into the water, marring the perfection of the garden and got to his feet. Sakazuki turned to look at him instead of the space Kuzan had left, looking for comfort, looking for him to tell him that he would fix it like he always did. For a moment, Borsalino almost reached out to take Sakazuki’s hand. 

Not. This. Time.

Instead, he walked across the garden, and pulled the open doors shut. 

\---

Kuzan’s apartment was small, messy, or it had been messy. Now, it was nearly empty but for the two of them. Borsalino leaned out the window in the living room the three of them had once enjoyed after a long day at the office, letting the smoke from his cigarette blow into the wind. Kuzan, duffle bag thrown over his good shoulder, came to stand next to him. The sky was patchy, the clouds hazy. The construction on their (his, Borsalino reminded himself), now former Headquarters kicked up thick plumes of dust in the distance. 

Kuzan’s eyes flicked to the cigarette between his lips. He said nothing as Borsalino reached into his pocket, pulling out his last rolled one and passed it to him, their fingers almost brushing. “Always hated them this way,” Kuzan muttered. It was silent as they smoked. This was it. This was the adjustment to the change. 

Kuzan’s cigarette burned down a little faster than his own. “You should leave too, you know,” Kuzan said softly, taking a last drag on Borsalino’s chosen vice. “Before he pushes you too far, too,” he flicked the cigarette out the window before turning away, his steps heavy. Borsalino turned to watch him go. 

It wouldn’t do him any good to tell Kuzan that Sakazuki needed Borsalino more than he did, but that the Navy needed Kuzan more than it needed Borsalino. They both already knew, and yet nothing changed. It wouldn’t do him any good to ask Kuzan not to go, to reconsider, to come back to them, because he couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t smooth things over between Sakazuki and Kuzan, couldn’t be the mediator, the middle, the bridge. Not this time, not when they let it get this far, not when they went through with this stupid, STUPID decision despite him asking them, no,  **begging** them not to let it go so far. The anger resurfaced, hot and devastating, but Kuzan had already left and his anger had no place to go but back under the surface.

He took the cigarette from his lips, gazing at it. “...I hate these too,” he said quietly, only emptiness met his ears. Borsalino dropped it onto the floor, stamping it out violently beneath his heel before turning and staring out the window, the clouds drifting into the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot stay away from angst apparently. I have never written from Borsalino's perspective before, and I thought it might be interesting to write about the fallout after Sakazuki's and Kuzan's fight if the three of them were in a triad. I threw in some Smoker/Kuzan in here too, because that's where my brain is at the moment because of the long fic for them I am writing. 
> 
> As I said at the top, this was written for One Piece Admirals Week 2020. Thanks to the discord server for helping me out with this!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and you can find me on twitter @buggyisbest


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